


If You Would Let Me

by bereniceofdale_archive (bereniceofdale)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Set in Middle-Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereniceofdale/pseuds/bereniceofdale_archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the battle, Bard and Thranduil shared moments of bliss, and revealed long concealed feelings. But weeks later, when the kings are sent to a meeting to Rivendell, no words are exchanged, the air is cold, and Bard is no more than a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Would Let Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [creepyscientist](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=creepyscientist).



> Happy Birthday [Beatrice](http://creepyscientist.tumblr.com)! I hope you had an amazing day! <3

“Do you think he's ever going to actually look at us?”

Bard looked from the thrush that had just flown away from his shoulder, to Percy, then to the Elvenking. Thranduil hadn't said a word in the thirteen days since their paths had crossed at the edge of the forest; at least, not to Bard or any of the men he’d been forced to take with him on this journey to Rivendell.

Word had come from Elrond not two weeks ago; he and Thranduil were summoned to attend an important meeting with other kings and lords from Middle-earth. The evil that had grown from Dol Guldur had to be talked about, and other kingdoms that had heard of the Battle of the Five Armies wished to be informed of everything that had resulted from it.

King Dáin had been asked to come as well, but had refused to make the journey in Thranduil's company. At least, these were the words Bard had been repeated, and given the way they had last met before the battle, Bard didn't need to ask why they were acting so coldly towards each other. Thranduil wouldn't forgive the slaughter of Elves by Dwarves so easily, regardless of how they had united in the end.

But, strangely, the only reason Bard himself was travelling alongside Thranduil was because they had simply bumped into each other. Thranduil had made clear in his letter that he didn't see any reason for the two of them to share this journey.

Thranduil glanced their way then, but averted his eyes as soon as they met Bard's.

“I don't think he'd mind looking at anyone but me,” Bard muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing,” Bard sighed. “It doesn't matter.”

Thing was—it did matter. Thranduil's behaviour was unusual. It had been since the day he’d departed from Dale, without a kiss of goodbye. It had been long, since he had last treated Bard as a stranger, and the new King of Dale couldn't deny that such a change hurt him more than he'd care to admit.

If there was one thing most didn't know, it was that Bard had met Thranduil long ago, by the sides of the river. It had been five years since Bard had taken on the job of bargeman, and since their first—strictly professional—meeting back then, it had become an habit for them to meet where Bard picked up the barrels and make small talk.

Such a thing had been strange at first; why would the great Elvenking of Mirkwood get out of his halls to meet with a lowly, poor, lower-class worker as himself?

Bard had wondered about that a lot, at first, and always been surprised to see Thranduil. But with time, he had accepted that maybe, the Elvenking saw something in him he didn't have; a friend, someone to talk to, someone to distract him from his duties from time to time. Bard hadn't known, and hadn't cared. All he had cared about was that he enjoyed the small conversations he shared with Thranduil, had started to find a friend in him—something he hadn't had the luxury of having since his wife's death—and, over the months and the years, something more.

Bard had never acted upon it, though; he hadn't seen how it could work. It had never been about not feeling like he was worth such an ancient, beautiful being's love, but more about how their lives were so very different, how it wouldn't be so easily accepted, and how Thranduil wasn't one to show his feelings easily. After all, they were no stories about a bargeman sharing the love of a king.

That was, until the battle had come. Until it had become clear he had no other choice but accept the path his people had chosen for him, no matter the fact that he didn't want any of it. Until he had realized how even an Elf's life was more easily taken than he had ever dared to think. How little their time would be, and how much of it they had wasted already.

After five years of unspoken words, and barely hidden shared feelings of love, Bard had decided he had beat around the bush long enough, and taken his chance before it could slip through his fingers.

And so, when he had found Thranduil amidst death and blood, Bard had kissed him. And Thranduil had kissed back, fiercely and lovingly, uncaring of whoever might see them amongst all the desolation. Hands had travelled along arms and fingers had lingered on cheeks and necks, and entwined through hair.

Bard shook his head, redirecting his attention back on the road. He considered letting things go; if Thranduil didn't want to talk to him anymore outside of political meetings, so be it. However, the more Bard looked at him, the more Bard couldn't bring himself to. He knew how he felt, and he knew how Thranduil felt, too. It couldn't have all been a lie. He refused to believe there had been nothing behind that kiss, and then that night they had shared on the aftermath of the battle. That they hadn’t shared even just a friendship for all those years. 

He _wasn’t_ the stranger Thranduil was making of him.

And so, Bard made his horse walk faster, so that he would ride by Thranduil's side, ahead of their men.

“My Lord Thranduil,” he said in greeting.

The Elvenking slowly turned his head towards him; if Bard didn't know him so well, he wouldn't have seen the surprise tainting his features. It had been years since Bard had last called him this way, away from others' ears. 'My Lord' was as usual as 'Thranduil', but it was always one or the other, never both.

“King Bard,” Thranduil merely replied, averting his eyes back to the road ahead before they could even meet Bard's.

“Is it something I've done, or said?” Bard inquired, determined to avoid any evasion of topic by going straight to the point. “Whatever it is, please tell me.”

“I do not see what you're talking about,” he replied. “Everything's fine.”

“No, it is n—”

“Everything is fine, King Bard,” Thranduil repeated, his tone cold and harsh. It made Bard grit his teeth and his hands clench tighter on the reins.

Bard wanted to protest, confront him, but Thranduil spoke a few more words in Elvish, and Feren soon joined his side. Together they rode just slightly faster, but enough to leave Bard behind with the others once again.

Bard sighed, and let Percy and his fourteen other men—Sigrid had insisted he took enough protection with him, as they hadn’t planned on running into Thranduil—catch up with him, though none of them said a word to him. Bard appreciated it; he wouldn't have known what to say anyway, and he wished to clear his thoughts in silence, his eyes fixed on Thranduil's back.

Bard didn't understand his change of attitude since the battle. Everything had gone fine between them for years, had even reached a wonderful peak when they had found each other after all the bloodshed, and Thranduil wouldn't do anything he didn't want to do. But maybe he regretted it? Bard shook his head again; it was a possibility, but he had always seen Thranduil as someone who thought long and hard before taking a decision.

He detached his gaze from Thranduil, to rest on the white mane of his horse. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the thrush had returned, perched itself on his shoulder, and sung a song to his ear. The road was clear, it said. There was no danger to come, and their journey should see no complications, at least until they reached the Misty Mountains. Bard nodded his thanks, grateful for this ability he had gained from his ancestors.

The birds were trustworthy. If they said nothing would disturb them, Bard knew he could calm his tensed nerves and, at worst, would be warned if things were to change. The mountains were dangerous; he hoped they would be as lucky as they had been so far.

The night came fast, painting the sky in dark blue and casting its shadows upon the trees around them. When they could barely see anymore, the foliage of the trees blocking the light of the moon, Bard watched as Thranduil came to a stop, and held up his hand. Their company halted, the sound of hooves against dirt faded, and Thranduil's voice rose.

“We will camp here for the night,” he announced, pointing to the canopy of the trees where it was even darker, far but close enough from the road, though he didn't meet Bard's eyes. “Get a fire going.”

Bard nodded, then turned to his men. “The same goes for us.”

Camp was set in a clearing, and dinner was eaten; only bread and cheese, but just enough to fill their empty stomachs.

Elves and Men didn't mix up, much to Bard's disappointment. After the battle, it hadn't been rare to see the two races share work and food, but it seemed Thranduil's behavior hadn't gone unnoticed, and no one dared to act as they used to.

Bard listened to his men's stories, though he kept a concerned eye turned towards Thranduil's direction; he would have to talk to him, before they reached Rivendell. He couldn't imagine them going on like this through the meetings, and even so, Bard wasn't sure he would be able to take it any longer without doing something about it.

He would find Thranduil in the morning, see him and ask him what had changed, or what troubled him.

Bard took the first watch despite the men’s protests, and when time came for him to rest, sleep embraced him quickly as he was rocked by the quiet sounds of the forest and thoughts of his children, happy and safe, back in Dale.

When he woke up, it was still dark. Snores and steady breaths came from the men around him, and nearby, Percy was on watch. Bard looked towards the elves, quickly noticing Thranduil's absence. He was quite unmissable, for the moonlight made his hair shine like the stars. Maybe Bard was just exaggerating, but it was still how he liked to see it, and how he had described it to Thranduil once, many moons ago.

He tried to go back to sleep, but it would not find him; his thoughts were already too busy with questions and worries. Bard stood, not caring to wipe the dust off his clothes, and attached his sword to his belt.

“Percy,” Bard said as he approached his friend, quietly as to not startle him. “Have you seen where King Thranduil went?”

“Oh, Bard,” Percy said, looking surprised to see him up. After his coronation, Bard had made clear his people were not to call him by any titles, and had been glad to see his wish respected. He found it hard, to get used to this new way of life, and such a simple thing helped him feel as ordinary as he had always been. “He went over there. Said he wasn't going far and would be fine in his own woods when I suggested he take some men with him.”

Bard nodded, amused by Percy's boldness. Not many would have dared to talk that way to the King of the Woodland Realm.

“I won't be far either, then. Send someone for us if we're not back by sunrise.”

Bard went in the direction Percy had pointed out to him. He walked under the trees, squinting in hopes he would see better, until a flash of silver further ahead caught his eye. He used it as a landmark, followed it until he reached another small clearing where Thranduil stood under the moonlight. The trees there were dead, just like most of the woods were, but with Thranduil here, it felt like it wasn't as decaying as it seemed.

“What is keeping you awake?” Bard asked from the border of the clearing.

“Elves don't need sleep like Men do,” said Thranduil, unfazed; he hadn't moved, hadn't turned to greet him. He didn't even sound surprised to hear Bard had come and found him.

Bard walked closer, went to stand by Thranduil's side, and looked up to the sky. They were silent for a long time, gaze fixed on the stars, until discomfort settled in Bard's neck, and he had to look down to the Elvenking's face.

“You should sleep, King Bard, and find the rest you need should we face—troubles,” Thranduil said. “There's still a long, dangerous journey ahead. It would be a pain to lose you so soon, for such a ludicrous reason.”

There was a tint of bitterness in his voice, that made Bard's stomach twitch unpleasantly.

“I couldn't sleep anymore,” Bard replied. “Sleep doesn't find the worried.”

“Pray tell, why would you be worried?”

“You're treating me like a stranger,” Bard said quietly. “I wasn't one, not so long ago.”

Thranduil kept his head up towards the stars, and didn't breathe a word for a moment that didn't seem like it would ever end.

“It is better this way,” were his words, when he finally spoke up.

“Why?” Bard asked. He was beginning to guess, somehow, the more time he spent here by Thranduil’s side, what it was that troubled Thranduil. But he needed to hear it from him. He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized sooner.

“Befriending you—it was dangerous already.” Thranduil kept his head high, eyes still gazing up at the stars. Bard could feel there were more unspoken words, and he waited, but no more words came. There was just the stillness of the night, their steady breaths, and the cries of the beings their presence was disturbing.

“My Lord, look at me.”

Thranduil closed his eyes. He shook his head, then slowly turned to finally meet Bard's gaze. He didn’t need to speak, for the infinity of his eyes told everything Bard had guessed already.

“There is only great pain waiting for me at the end of the road.”

Bard could feel and see it, then, the deepness of Thranduil's love, but also all of the sorrow that obscured it; past, present, and future. It made his heart ache, for there was something Thranduil didn't seem to realize, something that was as beautiful as it was sad; it was too late for them already.

“Do you truly believe keeping me away will make it any better?” Bard asked. “That when my time comes, you won't look back and regret all those wasted years?”

Bard paused to walk around Thranduil, and face him directly.

“There will always be pain, because, Thranduil—” Bard took a deep breath, dared to hold up his hand and let his fingers brush Thranduil's cheek. “It is too late. It's been too late for a long time. Do you truly believe it will hurt less, to know I loved you all this time, that you loved me, too, and that we didn't share any of it?”

Thranduil had stiffened, his eyes searching Bard's, though his own didn't show much of whatever thoughts were swirling behind them. Bard held his breath, his hand still up, hoping Thranduil would lean into his touch.

“How can you say that I love you?”

Bard let his hand fall, and laughed. It was tainted in sadness and bitterness, but there was an amused edge to it.

“If you didn't love me, you wouldn't fear me falling, in battle or to old age. You wouldn't care,” Bard said, his laugh dying and his smile taking a softer, sadder tone. He held his hand up again, let his finger linger along the side of Thranduil's face. “You wouldn't be trying so hard to spare yourself a pain you're feeling already.”

Thranduil leaned into his touch this time. His skin was cold from the night against Bard's, but as soft as he remembered it to be.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” Thranduil breathed. “But in your words there is truth. It was foolish to think I could keep you away forever.”

“I wouldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t.” Bard shook his head, tilted it slightly to the side. “I don’t believe you would have for much longer, either.” His gaze took a softer taint. “After all, you didn’t offer much resistance tonight.”

“When did I authorize this?” Thranduil wondered, and Bard knew what he meant; Thranduil wasn't one to let anyone read through him, or to even make their way in for that matter.

A half-smile formed on Bard's lips. His thumb stroked Thranduil’s temple gently, as his other hand came to rest on Thranduil's shoulder.

“Long ago, I dare say,” Bard replied, his voice softer than he had intended it to. “But there is still much I cannot read.”

Bard let his lips brush Thranduil's, but did not quite give in the gesture.

“I wish to learn all there is to know about you, if you would let me.”

Silence settled between them, and Bard looked down; would he try to look up to the stars, it was Thranduil's eyes he would meet, and he didn't want to let that happen until an answer was ready to be given to him. And so he stood, feeling Thranduil's breath against the top of his head and almost hearing the beating of his heart, for the night had fallen into silence as well, as if to give its King the quietness he needed to let his thoughts wander.

Thranduil's breath shifted then, and Bard now felt its warmth on his forehead. Then, there were soft lips gently pressing against his skin, hands framing his jaw. Bard closed his eyes, got lost into the touch as he let out a content sigh.

“You'll be the end of me,” Thranduil murmured. It made Bard's heart clench, for he knew what could be the fate of Elves whose lovers parted this world. “But you are right, my King—”

Thranduil kissed his forehead once more, then leaned his own against it. The blue of his gaze met Bard's, speaking more words than they could share.

“I'd spend the rest of your life with you—if you would let me.”

“I would,” Bard said, his voice honest and filled with warmth. “But, am I not selfish?” 

Bard had to ask. His heart beat faster nonetheless, and his hands clenched on the fabric adorning Thranduil's shoulders.

“You said it yourself.” Thranduil's lips brushed his cheek. “It's been too late for us for a long time and, besides—” They came to rest close to the corner of his mouth. “I can make my own decisions.”

This was right, of course. Bard drew in a sharp breath, turned his head slightly so that his own lips could brush Thranduil's.

“You shouldn't blame yourself for what you have no control over, and hasn't happened yet,” Thranduil said. “Aren't you the one who came to talk some sense to me?”

“Aye, and I don't regret it,” Bard replied, breathing in Thranduil's scent; it smelled of wine and spring flowers, of the night and the forest. Never would he get tired of it.

Bard was selfish, in a way, for he wouldn't be the one to suffer most in the end. But neither of them had meant for it to happen; this falling in love. They hadn't been able to help it, and Bard knew that ever since it had happened, the best thing he could do for Thranduil was to give him his love, while he could have it.

He would make his time with Thranduil a time worth remembering, until the end. Yes, it would hurt, but maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it all.

“It is unsettling, how easy it is for you to stand against me.”

Thranduil's voice snapped Bard back to the present situation: facing him, their lips brushing, so close to crashing into each other, their hands on neck and jaw, their breaths mixing, and their eyes lost into the deepness of the other’s.

“Are you going to do something about it, my Lord?”

“Yes,” Thranduil whispered, smirking. “I quite like it, so I'm going to keep you close—so that you can do it again.”

Bard smiled, and Thranduil's lips found his, leaving a kiss upon them.

“And again.”

Another quick kiss.

“And ag—”

Bard framed Thranduil's face then, and kissed him with all the passion he felt burning within himself. It was a promise that he was making. Yes, there would be pain and sorrow; it was written, and there was no way they could escape it. But it wouldn’t be all about that. He wouldn’t let it.

They didn't have to live happily ever after, for there was no such thing waiting for them.

But, they could _live_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it dear :D Happy birthday again!! Keep up being amazing :3
> 
> It was so nice to write something in canon setting, I had missed it! 
> 
> Leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed this? You'll make my day <3
> 
> Thank you to [Iza](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Piyo13/) for the editing (and the geographic help)! :D


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